


An Ending, Of Sorts

by SeveralSmallHedgehogs



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Death, Consecuted Caleb Widogast, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, Lifespan Angst, M/M, Old Married Couple, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeveralSmallHedgehogs/pseuds/SeveralSmallHedgehogs
Summary: The end (?) of Caleb Widogast, five hundred years down the line, and everything that follows.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 18
Kudos: 228





	An Ending, Of Sorts

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote another Caleb Dies fic, hopefully not quite as sad as the other one. I'm leaving the details of Caleb and Essek's relationship more or less up to the reader's imagination, but they sleep in the same bed, so, there's that

Essek roused slowly—he was no longer asleep, but he was so warm and cozy he couldn’t bear to move. But after he laid there a while and sleep didn't return, he resigned himself to being awake and finally opened his eyes. Dim, pale light poked through a crack in the curtains in front of him. Judging by the angle of the light, though, it was morning in Rosohna. His face was still half buried in his pillow, and he could tell without touching his hair that it was an absolute tangle. He heaved a sigh and patted the pale, scarred arm that was locked around his waist. “Caleb,” he murmured. “Caleb, love, I have to get up.”

The arm tightened and Caleb grunted in denial.

Essek could not still a smile. “I have to work,” he said. “ _You_ have to work.”

Caleb mumbled something in Zemnian. Normally Essek understood Zemnian—it had taken him a few years to master—but the language was a little more difficult to understand when it was muffled by goose down. Though the message was clear and Caleb still did not let go. Then, just to make Essek’s life harder, Caleb’s familiar hopped up onto the bed and curled up against Essek’s chest. He laughed softly, stroking the cat’s side. “You two are conspiring against me.”

“If that is what it takes,” Caleb mumbled in Common.

"Come on.” Essek started to lever himself up on his elbow. Frumpkin made an irritated sound, and Caleb dragged on Essek’s midsection, but he wasn’t truly trying to stop him—just make it harder for him to get up.

Regardless, Essek disentangled himself and climbed out of bed. Almost immediately, Caleb reached out and pulled Frumpkin over to cuddle. But that only lasted a moment or two; Essek had only sat down at the desk and picked up a comb when where was a sigh and a creak behind him. He glanced backwards. Caleb was sitting on the edge of the bed, squinting irritably at the wall. Essek smiled. “Good morning.”

Caleb sighed again. “Good morning.”

He took considerably less time to get dressed than Essek did. His clothes were simple, perhaps a little rumpled and worn, but obviously well-made. Shirt, pants, boots, coat, scarf. Even his hair was simple—he just tied it back, ignoring any hair that escaped, and Essek thought to himself that it really wasn’t fair that Caleb looked good no matter what.

He must have been frowning, because Caleb paused and smiled at him, puzzled. “Is something the matter?”

“Just jealous,” Essek said, turning to face the mirror again. “You make it look so effortless.”

“Make what look so effortless?”

Essek snorted. “Exactly.”

Caleb came over and rested his hands on his partner’s shoulders, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “You know I will not be able to fix anything if you do not tell me what is wrong. I am far from a mind-reader.”

“Nothing is wrong.” Essek sighed and let his head fall back against Caleb’s chest. “I am just envious of how nice your hair looks.”

Caleb’s ears went red, but he smiled. “Ah. Well, I am afraid there is nothing to be done about that, _Traube_.” He kissed Essek on the forehead. “I will see you later.”

“Yes, yes, take your nice hair and go. Let me finish getting ready for the day.”

Caleb chuckled and left, closing the door behind him.

The day went as usual. Caleb and Essek worked in their separate studies—they had learned long ago that, if they worked in the same room, they were likely to get caught up discussing some issue or another and they would hardly get any work done.

Caleb noticed when it was about time to stop for lunch, but he was _so_ close to finishing the adjustments on a new spell to show Essek. He was _so_ close. But he’d also been starting to feel lightheaded, which normally only happened when he forgot to eat for a whole day. It happened less frequently these days, but it still happened. He pushed the thought away. He’d eaten this morning. It was probably just happening because he’d been standing up too long.

"It’s after noon, love,” said Essek from the doorway. “We should get something to eat.”

Caleb turned to face him and suddenly felt weightles—which was odd, because he could still feel the ground under his feet. Then blackness crashed over his vision.

Then he was lying on the floor and his head was aching. Essek dropped to his knees next to him, worry etching lines into his face. “Caleb, are you all right? What happened?”

“I… I don’t know.” Caleb lifted his head. The dizzy feeling returned, and he squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t help. “Would you help me sit up?”

Essek slipped an arm behind Caleb’s shoulders and helped him upright. “You hit your head on the floor,” he noted. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.” Caleb gently felt the side of his skull. “Only bruised, I think. I don’t know why I passed out like that.”

“Did you eat breakfast?” Essek’s tone was vaguely accusatory.

“Of course I ate breakfast.”

“Then, is it possible that you’re ill?” Essek checked his forehead and frowned. “Hm. You don’t seem to have a fever… perhaps we should get you to a healer.”

Caleb took a deep breath. He wanted to work, but… he had a feeling this might be more serious than it looked. And if it wasn’t, it would at least be good to assuage Essek’s fears. And his own. “Perhaps we should,” he said. “I will contact Caduceus and see if we can drop by.”

They visited the Blooming Grove later that day. It was far easier to reach these days, and the garden itself was flourishing. Visitors were more frequent than they had been, but it was still a nice, quiet space. Every member of the Mighty Nein used to visit as often as they could—they had used it was a gathering place, a minimum of a few times a year. Nowadays, Essek and Caleb were the only ones left to visit. The others kept a more constant company in the garden.

Essek paced outside while Caleb sat in the large main room with Caduceus’s hands on his back and the power of the Wildmother flowing through him. But even Caleb could tell that the healing wasn’t doing much. Finally, Caduceus sat back and gave a quiet sigh. Caleb turned to face him, waiting for him to speak.

“…I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do,” Caduceus admitted. “I’m honestly kind of impressed with how long you’ve stretched your life with Dunamancy. But we all knew it wouldn’t last forever.” He gave a tired smile. “Looks like we’re both getting old.”

Caleb nodded. “Thank you all the same, friend.” He sat there for a moment, staring at the stones. “I suppose I should tell Essek.”

“Do you want me to do it?”

“No.” Caleb got to his feet and winced as his knees throbbed. “We both knew this day was coming. I will tell him.”

“All right. I think I saw him heading for the graves.”

“Yes, I did, too.” Caleb paused in the doorway and cast one last look at his old friend. “Thank you,” he said.

Caduceus just nodded.

Essek didn’t react to the news—not visibly, anyway. His face went still and blank. Caleb hated when he did that, as rarely as it happened these days. He’d gotten better at reading people, but Essek had always had a way of rendering all that practice completely useless. There were times, like this one, where Caleb could only guess at what he was thinking.

“I see,” Essek said at last. He paused, as if searching for words. “What do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you want to do?” Essek repeated. “This is your time to spend. What would you like to do with it? I am sure Her Majesty will excuse us from our duties. We have both been working long and hard, and retirement is not unheard of.”

Caleb smiled briefly and stepped forward to lean his head on Essek’s shoulder. “I want to keep working,” he murmured. “I was in the middle of a spell.”

Essek huffed. Of course Caleb wanted to keep working. It was all either of them did anymore. They had dedicated their lives so far to their work and there was no reason to change now. “Of course." He wrapped his arms around Caleb, like if he held him close enough in this moment, he would never have to let go.

“Anything.”  


One afternoon a month or two later, Caleb knocked on the open door to Essek’s study and said he was going to lie down for a while.

Essek smiled. “All right. I’ll wake you for dinner.”

Caleb told him, “Thank you,” and then paused. It took Essek a moment to realize Caleb was still just standing in the doorway, studying him.

“Is something the matter?” Essek asked.

Caleb shook his head. “Nothing, _Mondlicht_. I will see you in an hour, or so.”

And that was the last conversation they had.

Essek’s expression was blank all through the funeral, and through the Bright Queen’s speech about all the work Caleb Widogast had done for the dynasty. There had been debate about where to bury him—he had never joined any of the noble houses, but he had been undeniably a great man within Xorhas. Some wanted him buried with other Dynasty heroes. Others said that he should be put in a common graveyard—he was a human, after all, and an outsider. But Essek knew Caleb’s wishes.

And when he arrived at the Blooming Grove, Caduceus already had a plot prepared.

Essek did not sleep as well after that. From time to time he dreamed of an arm around his middle, or a cat nosing at his face, only to have the illusion ripped away as soon as he woke. What he wouldn’t have given to be startled awake one more time by that damned familiar knocking something over in the bedroom. Or to have Caleb make himself a nuisance when it was finally time to get up.

It was less than a year after Caleb’s funeral that Essek dreamed of a dark space. His feet were bare on a cold stone floor. He turned in a circle searching for a source of light. He found a line of gold showing the silhouette of a door. When he pushed on it, it creaked open.

On the other side of the door was a study he had never seen before. There were familiar pieces—a measuring instrument he had designed himself. Books in a particular order on the shelves. A view from the window of the starlit skyline of Rosohnna.

And sitting on a bench at the desk, hunched over his work, was a man with lovely red hair streaked with gray. He sat up, turned, and smiled. “Essek,” said Caleb. He lifted one foot and then the other over the bench—Caleb had not been able to do that for years—and stood up. “I do not think you are supposed to be here.” He seemed more amused than worried. There was light in his eyes.

Essek stepped into the room, looking around. It was small. In just a few steps, he had crossed to Caleb. “What is on the desk, here?”

Caleb looked down and laid a hand on the papers. “I have finished those adjustments I was working on,” he said. “I would like to show them to you, but I do not think there is time right now. You should leave while you can.” He nodded to the door.

Essek looked over his shoulder. The door was slowly swinging closed, though he likely had a few minutes before it shut. A few minutes. A few minutes more. There was a time where Essek would have given anything for a few minutes more with Caleb Widogast. That was before they spent decades and decades drawing out his life. Before Essek had to see the rest of the Nein buried, one by one, until all that was left the grave cleric alone in his grove. Each time, it was as if a piece had been chipped off of his life. He had felt weakened without them. Brittle. His first friends, all but gone.

“Am I dead?” he asked.

Caleb was silent for a moment. “That is difficult to say,” he said. “This place is in between. I was… waiting here, for you. But I can wait as long as needed.” He gave a thin smile and reached over to slide his hand down Essek’s arm. The gesture was affectionate, but sad. Lonely.

Essek caught Caleb’s hand when it reached his. “I think I will stay.”

“You are not stuck here,” Caleb told him. “You can still leave before the door closes. It shut behind me when I first arrived. You can… continue, if you want to.”

“I do not,” Essek told him quietly, reaching up to touch Caleb’s face with his fingertips. “Not without you. Where you go, I go.”

Caleb smiled and sighed, tilting his head against Essek’s hand. “All right,” he murmured. “The others are waiting nearby. I can show you to them—we are only waiting on Caduceus now. We can take as long as we want to, before…”

“Oh,” Essek realized. “The Beacon. We will be reborn, but…”

“I think they will be, too. Just… not with these memories. We wanted to gather together one more time before we scatter to the winds.”

Essek was silent for a moment. “Do you believe we will ever see them again?”

Caleb smiled. “I am sure of it.” He stepped towards a door that had not been there before. “The others are this way. I don’t believe you’ve met Mollymauk. Or Yasha’s wife—her name is Zuala.”

“I did not know Yasha was married.”

“She was. You two are very similar—I think you will like her….”

Shadowhand Essek was late reporting to the Lucid Bastion the next morning. A messenger was sent to retrieve him, and the servants found that he, too, had passed away in his sleep. Only six hundred years old. His death was investigated, but nobody could find any signs of foul play. He was placed in the Thelyss family tomb, with the rest of his den who had gone on before him.

The Bright Queen was more irritated than anything else. “He probably found that human wizard of his somewhere and refused to leave him,” she muttered to her reflection in the mirror of the vanity in her chambers. “It was a foolish thing to do; they're _going_ to see each other again." She huffed. "Dunamancy is as unpredictable as it is powerful. It should not have been entrusted to someone as impulsive as Essek.”

Her partner stepped behind her and ran her fingers through the queen’s hair. “They were young, Leylas. They have not had lifetimes and lifetimes together, as we have. We will see them again in a century or so.”

The queen sat back in her chair. “You’re right,” she murmured. “As always.” She thought for a moment, and then scowled at her reflection. “But if he pulls this again, I will be furious with him.”

“I’m sure you will.” The drow continued to comb her fingers through the queen’s hair. “Perhaps those friends of theirs will appear again, too. The Luxon works in mysterious ways.”

The Bright Queen put her hands over her face and groaned. “Not all at once, I hope. They cause as many headaches as they solve.”

Her partner kissed her on the top of the head. “But won’t the world be so much more interesting with all of them in it again?”

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on tumblr](https://severalsmallhedgehogs.tumblr.com/) for updates and links to new works!


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